The Adventure of the Disappearing Man
by Archie Partridge
Summary: A dearth of cases has left Holmes bored and Watson worried- but could the seemingly simple problem which comes along be just what they need to distract them?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I imagine Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson might have something to say if it were suggested that they were the property of anyone (although Inspector Lestrade suspects that the Yard _**thinks**_ it owns him); but if any man could take up the argument with them and win it would be Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, not me. I just hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them._

* * *

The January following the Grimbledyke insurance fraud had been a particularly cold and wet month, and the weather combined with a disappointing lack of cases had kept Sherlock Holmes and myself confined largely to our quarters in Baker Street. For my own part, I did not find this a great inconvenience; but the lack of activity had dragged Holmes into one of his blackest moods, and for his sake I hoped that a case would come up before he resorted to other, less favourable methods to counteract his depression.

It was along these lines that I was thinking one morning when I heard a ring at the bell of our front door.

"The doorbell has just rung, Holmes," I ventured to remark, looking over my newspaper at the recumbent form of my friend draped across the settee.

"Quite so," he answered, without opening his eyes. "You will see that I am correct in saying that boredom has a negative effect upon the mental faculties, Watson. It has led you to develop an unedifying talent for stating the obvious."

"I was merely suggesting that you may have a client."

"I think not. That pull upon the bell-rope was too feeble to suggest someone with a desperate problem in need of solution; and I think you would agree that only a desperate man would venture out in this weather." Holmes opened his eyes, sat up, and gestured to the window, which had thick sleet running down it. He paused, however, as a weary tread sounded upon the staircase. "Perhaps a caller for you, Watson?"

"I am not expecting anyone," I replied, as our unknown visitor knocked upon the door.

"Come in!" called Holmes. His eyes widened slightly as the door opened. "Inspector Lestrade! What can we do for you?"

"I was hoping you might be able to help me with a bit of a problem, Mr. Holmes," admitted Lestrade, standing awkwardly in the doorway, and dripping water steadily on to our floor from his hat and overcoat.

Holmes half-smiled. "Then come in and sit down," said he, jumping to his feet with something of his old enthusiasm, and gesturing to the settee he had just vacated. "Watson…" Hurrying to my own feet, I took Lestrade's coat and hat for him. One glance at the little professional suggested that Holmes' first supposition had not been far out, for his face was white save two feverish spots of colour in his cheeks, and he peeled off his wet overcoat as if every movement was a painful effort.

"You should not be out in this!" I exclaimed.

Lestrade gave a wan smile. "I haven't much choice," he said hoarsely, sinking into the seat which Holmes had indicated with undisguised relief. "Not until…" A fit of coughing interrupted what he had been about to say; I moved to the spirit-case, and poured a glass of brandy which I pressed into his hands.

"I won't, if you don't mind, Dr. Watson," he said, once he had got his breath back. "Thank you all the same."

"You ought to take something," I told him, returning to my usual chair. "A hot drink, at the very least…"

"It's good of you, Doctor, but I'll manage without. It's the Evans murder I'm here about."

"Ah, yes," said Holmes, settling himself in his own chair and lighting a cigarette. "The shopkeeper done to death by his own apprentice. But there is no mystery about the case, is there? I understood he had been seen in the act, and the police had lost no time in arresting the young fellow." He looked questioningly at Lestrade. "Surely you have him under lock and key at this very moment?"

"That's just it, Mr. Holmes. We don't. Certainly we found the place where the apprentice- Barnaby Miller, his name is- was lodging, and all we had to do was go to the house and arrest him. It was simple enough. He was there in his room; he didn't seem surprised to see us, and I got the derbies on him all right…" Lestrade stopped as another coughing fit seized him.

"Surely you should be at home in bed," I remonstrated with him. "I do not like the sound of that."

"I'm none too keen on it myself," retorted Lestrade weakly. "But the fact remains, gentlemen, that Barnaby Miller is still at large, and unless I can find him he is liable to get clean away with murder."

"He got away from you?" inquired Holmes.

Lestrade flushed. "He did," he admitted reluctantly.

"May I ask how?"

"He knocked me down and ran. He wouldn't have managed it had it not been for this wretched cold, but the fact remains that he took the advantage, and by the time I had got my breath back to shout for help he had stolen a bicycle and was away."

"You were alone with him?"

"No, but the imbecile constable with me was too busy checking to see if I was hurt to chase after him immediately. We managed to track the bicycle, but Miller has disappeared as if into thin air." Lestrade shrugged helplessly. "If I cannot find him my name will be mud at Scotland Yard, Mr. Holmes."

"And so you hope that I will be able to aid you in unravelling the question of his disappearance," stated Holmes. "It is no doubt simple enough; the villain has a friend who is willing to hide him for a time, and you have not yet found the friend. The case hardly appears worthy of my methods. It seems, after all, that you are more in need of Dr. Watson's excellent professional advice than my own." He paused as if to consider. "However, that being so, I may stretch a point. It is possible that it will enliven a few hours of my existence."

Lestrade, who had been looking singularly downcast, raised his head at this pronouncement.

"On one condition," continued Holmes.

"Which is?"

"That you do as Watson has suggested; go home and leave me to find Miller by my own devices."

Lestrade blinked. "But…" he began.

"Those are my terms," Holmes stated. "Would you not agree that it is sound advice, Watson?"

"Undoubtedly," I replied. "You most certainly should not be chasing about London in your present state, Lestrade."

"That's as may be, Dr. Watson, but I have a job to do."

"And you will not do it any better should you give yourself pneumonia," pronounced Holmes dismissively. "No, it will not do. You have come here to ask my help in this matter, and I have promised to give it. Very well, then. You must trust me to bring the matter to a successful conclusion." He got to his feet and walked across to the window. "I see the weather has cleared slightly. I suggest you use the opportunity to take yourself home without a further soaking; no doubt you can give me the address of the constable who was present at Miller's arrest before you go? Thank you." Holmes waited while Lestrade scribbled down the constable's name and address. "Capital. Good day, Lestrade; do try not to dawdle on the way home. It is a cold day, and I am sure you would be a considerable loss to Scotland Yard should you fail to recover from your present affliction."

Lestrade rubbed his eyes at this pronouncement, his expression indicating that he was unsure of whether the bestowing of a compliment by Sherlock Holmes was merely a delusion caused by high fever; but he ceased to argue upon the point.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes; Dr. Watson. I hope I shall hear from you soon, then," he said dazedly, allowing Holmes to help him into his still damp coat and taking his hat from the peg.

"Undoubtedly you shall," agreed Holmes. Closing the door upon our departing companion, he threw himself back in to his chair and reached for his pipe. "What do you make of it, Watson?" he asked me.

"I do not like sending him off like that. He is in for a bad case of influenza, if nothing worse; that is a serious matter."

"Then let us hope he has not made us a present of his germs, for we may yet need all our faculties about us. I trust you will accompany me today?"

"Of course, if you wish me to."

"Excellent! Then when I have finished this pipe, let us proceed to the home of the unfortunate Constable Meadows, who has so incurred Lestrade's wrath, and see what he has to tell us."


	2. Chapter 2

The neighbourhood in which the constable's address was to be found proved to be a relatively poor one, but well-kept; as we approached Meadows' house, I observed the scrupulously clean doorstep and polished windows.

"I see Mrs. Meadows takes some pains with the housekeeping," remarked Holmes, knocking upon the door. "Let us hope the constable is as meticulous in his work, for the more information we can gain from him the better." He touched his hat as a young man in blue serge trousers and shirt-sleeves opened the door to us. "Good morning; may I presume I am speaking to Constable Meadows?"

Meadows nodded in bewildered surprise, seemingly uncertain how to proceed. He gathered his wits together soon enough, however, and answered,

"Yes, sir. But- forgive me- are you not Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

"I am indeed," answered Holmes, obviously gratified by Meadows' glance of awe. "And this is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson."

"Doctor," Meadows smiled a greeting at me, "Mr. Holmes. Won't you come in?" We followed him into a small kitchen which, though sparsely furnished, was as thoroughly scrubbed as the outside of the building had been. A young woman stood working at the stove, while a curly-headed child of two or thereabouts clutched at her skirts as we entered. "Annie, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson come to visit us," explained Meadows, not without a degree of pride. "Gentlemen, my wife. And my daughter," he added, lifting the child into his arms. She nestled against his shoulder, surveying us gravely. "But, please, won't you sit down?"

"Thank you," said Holmes, as we seated ourselves at the kitchen table.

"Would you like some tea, gentlemen?" inquired Mrs. Meadows.

"That's very kind of you," I began.

"But not necessary, thank you, Mrs. Meadows," interrupted Holmes. "I am afraid it is a matter of business with your husband which has brought us here, and I should like to get it cleared up."

"Of course, Mr. Holmes. I will leave you alone. Come along, Lizzie; you can see Dad afterwards." Mrs. Meadows held out her hand to the small girl, who slid out of her father's arms obediently enough, and followed her mother from the room.

"What is it you wished to see me about, Mr. Holmes?" inquired Meadows, seating himself at the table opposite us.

"The Evans murder case," said my friend. The colour rose immediately to the young constable's face, but Holmes affected to take no notice. ""You may speak to us quite freely; it was Inspector Lestrade who recommended me to come to you."

The embarrassment written on Meadows' face was plain; but he answered readily enough,

"I will tell you all I can, sir."

"Capital! Then begin with the arrest of Miller, if you will."

"Well, it seemed a simple enough matter to begin with, sir. Patterson and Macdonald and myself went along with Inspector Lestrade to the man's lodging house; and when we got there, he sent the other two to keep watch at the back while we went in the front way. Miller was still in his room, packing his things; it struck me as a stupid thing to be doing, sir, for he must have known we would be on to him sharp enough."

"Indeed," said Holmes. "There was no other reason for him to return to his lodgings that you know of?"

"No, sir. I suppose he might have had something he couldn't do without there, but what, I can't imagine."

"You did not look?"

"No, sir."

"A pity. Never mind; go on."

"Well, Mr. Lestrade told Miller he was under arrest for the murder of Mr. Evans, and Miller just stood there, staring sort of wild-eyed, like, but quiet enough. He even took the handcuffs without any fuss. I went to the window- it was an upstairs room, sir, at the back of the house- to call out to the others that they needn't stay there and to come in and give us a hand getting him back to the station, and it was as I was leaning out I heard an almighty thud behind me. I turned round quick, and there was Miller disappearing out of the door and the Inspector lying on the floor."

"And it did not occur to you to chase after Miller?" queried Holmes.

"I didn't know what to do, sir. I suppose I ought to have done, but perhaps I thought he would meet Patterson and Macdonald coming the other way, if I thought about it at all. I was frightened Mr. Lestrade was hurt, him not getting up straight away, and… well, it was different, somehow, with it being one of us, sir," explained Meadows, fixing my friend with an earnest, worried gaze.

"I am sure your concern does you credit," I hastened to reassure him. Meadows relaxed slightly, but looked faintly rueful.

"I don't know that Mr. Lestrade thought so, sir," he said. "He threatened to have me posted to the worst beat he could think of the moment he had time to do the paperwork."

Holmes gave a bark of laughter. "You may find he has calmed down by the time that happens," he suggested. "But go on. I take it your colleagues failed to catch Miller in his flight from the house."

"He ran out the front while they were coming in the back, sir. By then I'd got my whistle out, so they came running up the stairs to see what had happened."

"In short, the entire affair was a shambles," snorted Holmes. "I presume at least one of you then took it upon yourselves to chase after Miller?"

"We all did, sir. Mr. Lestrade was back on his feet by then, so he led the way; but of course there was no sign of Miller anywhere. Macdonald had just been sent back in to the house to check that he wasn't still hiding inside when we were joined by Constable Hughes, who has the beat just along from that street. He told us our man had just stolen a bicycle from outside a shop and ridden off." Meadows chewed absent-mindedly at the edge of his moustache, frowning in thought. "What I can't understand is how he did it."

"It was surely easy enough to take the cycle if no one was watching," I interjected.

"Oh, yes, Dr. Watson; but Miller had his hands cuffed _behind his back_. How could he ever have put the thing upright and ridden off?"

"How indeed?" echoed Holmes, his eyes alight with curiosity. "Did Hughes see the bicycle being taken?"

"No; it was reported to him by the owner, who had caught a glimpse of Miller riding away, but had been too slow to catch him. Then when he heard my whistle he came to help, and realised when he heard the job we were on that the thief and Miller were one and the same. We trailed the bicycle; after the owner had lost sight of it Miller had ridden it through some muck in the street, and we were able to follow the tyre prints as a result. The bicycle we found abandoned outside a warehouse near the river, but of Miller there was no sign."

"He would have had a good start on your party, if he was riding a bicycle and you were on foot," I pointed out.

"That is true; he had plenty of time to hide. He could not have carried on much further without being noticed; not with the derbies on. He could hardly have been more obvious."

"Perhaps so," agreed Holmes, although there was something in his manner which suggested to me that he was not entirely convinced by Meadows' statement.

"But we carried out a most thorough search," Meadows insisted.

"I am sure you did," said Holmes. "Which suggests to me that you either missed something, or more likely that there was nothing there for you to find."

"We found the bicycle."

"I have no doubt you were meant to. Thank you, Constable Meadows; your information has been most illuminating. We will take up no more of your valuable time." Saying this, Holmes rose from the table and prepared to leave. The discomfited constable showed us to the door.

"I hope you have better luck than we did, Mr. Holmes," he said, as he wished us good-bye.

"I am sure I will," replied Holmes. "In the meantime, Meadows, I will give you some advice. Next time you are called to the scene of a crime, do not confine yourself to looking for what you expect to see."

With that, we left the young constable staring open-mouthed after us as we made our way back to the main thoroughfares of the city.


	3. Chapter 3

"It seems this case has its peculiar points after all, Holmes," I suggested, when we had safely hailed a cab and climbed aboard.

"Do you mean the handcuffs?" my friend inquired.

"Well, yes; how could a man expect to ride a bicycle in such a position?"

"It is not a matter of whether he could expect to; it is a matter of whether he did. I wonder what he went back to the house for? Even young Meadows found something odd about that, and yet the rooms were not searched by the police. However, it may not be too late. If Miller has not been back yet, whatever he left will likely still be there."

"A passport, perhaps?"

"Really, Watson. If you were fleeing the country as a known murderer, would you stop to collect a document proclaiming to all and sundry your identity the moment you stopped to use it?"

"I suppose not. Money, then."

"Not money; he had already taken it from the till that day and been caught in the act, leading to the argument in which he killed his employer."

"Then what do you suggest?" I asked.

"I am not certain yet; but I intend to find out. It may be the key to finding Miller; and all the official force have done is to chase a stolen bicycle halfway across London. I should have expected no less. Lestrade is abominably slow on the uptake even at his best; although, to give him his due, I have never known him let a prisoner escape before. It will be a new experience for him, not to mention a jolt to his pride. I should not have liked to have been in Constable Meadows' shoes at the time."

"But what exactly do you intend to do now?"

"To go to Miller's rooms and see what he has left there. There may, of course, be nothing; but that would be equally as interesting as if we were to find something." Further than this Holmes refused to be drawn, but he knocked upon the roof of the cab and shouted to the driver our new destination. "No doubt there will be a policeman at the door to admit us," he remarked absently, before settling back in his seat and closing his eyes, effectively stopping any further conversation.

It took us some little time to reach our destination, which proved to be a respectable-looking boarding-house in the area nearing Blackfriars. As Holmes had predicted, a bearded constable was standing stolidly outside the front door. He recognised us, however, and gave us a welcome.

"Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson; were you thinking of going inside, gentlemen?"

"If you have no objection, constable," answered Holmes. "We have spoken to Inspector Lestrade about it."

"Well, then, I don't see that it would hurt, sir. You'll find the room you want second from the left on the top floor; I must stay here to keep an eye on anyone trying to come in."

"There is someone at the back entrance as well?" queried Holmes.

"Peters is stationed in the back yard, sir, in case the fellow should try getting in that way."

"I see. Well, no doubt it will suffice. Come, Watson; let us investigate Miller's room."

We entered the house, and climbed three flights of stairs to the floor the constable had indicated. It contained a series of somewhat dingy attic rooms, Miller's being one which overlooked the rear yard of the property.

"I fear Peters will not prove much of a deterrent, if his present behaviour is anything to go by," Holmes remarked, opening the window and craning his neck out of it for a better view. He beckoned me across, and pointed out to me the grizzled police constable warming his hands around a mug of tea whilst deep in animated conversation with a middle-aged woman I took to be the housekeeper. "However, it makes very little difference to us for the moment." Holmes slid the window shut once more, thankfully cutting off most of the icy draught to which we were being subjected. "We must turn our attention to the contents of this room." He began to search through the few possessions which Miller had left scattered; I watched his every movement, knowing I could not help in finding the unknown object for which he was looking, but alert for the moment when his purpose was revealed.

"Such dust speaks of a slovenly housekeeper," he complained, sweeping a hand under the bed. "I can only trust that Miller was not paying too exorbitant a rent." He continued to the drawers of the chest which stood against the wall. "There must be something here; a man is not going to risk his life for a clean collar and a bar of soap to take on his travels." Holmes threw the offending articles which he had found to one side as he spoke. He then went over the rest of the room in minute detail, a perplexed frown growing ever deeper on his face, until with a cry of triumph his expression cleared and he dropped to the floor on his knees.

"I have found it, Watson! Quickly; have you a knife?"

"I have my pocket knife, if that will suffice," I said, approaching the spot where he knelt.

"That will do… Carefully, Watson; we must not lose it! Pass me the knife, if you will." He held out his hand for the knife, and opening the blade, he jabbed it firmly in to what appeared to be a tiny fragment of cardboard jammed between the floorboards, drawing it gently upwards.

"I think we have the key to the mystery," he said, handing the knife back to me. I stood, mystified, as he got to his feet once more. "You observe what it is?"

"It appears to be a pawnbroker's ticket," I answered. "But I am afraid I do not see its significance. Is this what Miller went to the trouble of returning for? It hardly seems worth such a risk, especially given the paltry sum of money which I see mentioned on the ticket."

"That amount is of the greatest importance, my dear Watson," replied Holmes, scrutinising the ticket, "As is the date upon it." He turned his gaze to me. "You are no doubt aware that should an article be pawned for less than ten shillings, and a year and seven days allowed to elapse before it is reclaimed, then that article becomes the property of the pawnbroker in lieu of repayment. That time elapsed for Miller yesterday, according to the date upon this ticket; yesterday, when he was caught in the act of stealing from his master's till, and was rendered desperate enough to kill as a result. I think we have found the reason behind his actions, although no doubt there remain a few details to be explained."

"I understand all that, Holmes; but how is it to help us find Miller now?"

"I think it may be a very great help indeed," said Holmes, slipping the ticket into the pocket of his coat. "Well, we have got what we came here for; we need not linger, I think. You may care to return to Baker Street alone, Watson; I have a little business of my own to attend to in the meantime."


	4. Chapter 4

Holmes had not returned to our rooms by the time dusk had settled into darkness, and I was just beginning to wonder what had become of him when I heard a tread upon the stair. That it was not my friend was evident from the footsteps; but I laid down my pipe and went to the door, curious as to who our visitor could be.

"Lestrade!" I exclaimed, recognising the familiar figure who was now trailing somewhat wearily up our staircase. He looked no better than when I had seen him last, and I felt compelled to ask, "But what are you doing here? I thought you were to go home to your bed."

"So I would have done by now, Dr. Watson, if I hadn't had a telegram from Mr. Holmes asking me to be here at six o'clock," he answered me, looking about the room for some sign of my friend's presence.

"He is not here yet," I explained, "But I dare say he will not be long, if he has asked you to join us. Come and sit down while we wait." I made sure Lestrade had the chair nearest the fire before sitting down myself; then I asked,

"Did Holmes tell you what he was about?"

"Not exactly; all I could gather was that he wanted to know whether there had been any robberies reported at a pawnbroker's shop near Blackfriars. There's been nothing that I know of; and I don't see what bearing it has on the matter in hand, either. It's Miller I am after, not anyone else. I hope he has not dragged me out on a wild goose-chase."

"I am sure he has not," I soothed my ruffled companion. "I know he had high hopes of catching Miller when I last saw him; if he has called you out it must be because he is certain of laying his hands on the fellow tonight."

Lestrade shrugged, and repressed a shiver. "Well, I suppose Mr. Holmes has been right in these things before," he admitted grudgingly. "Although I still don't see what McNulty's pawnbroking shop has to do with it."

I was about to explain to him the discovery of the pawnbroker's ticket which had so excited Holmes earlier in the day when the hurried steps of a new arrival were heard upon the stair; this time it was Holmes himself, for he threw open the door and strode in, regarding us both with an air of satisfaction.

"I believe we have him, Watson," he announced. "Lestrade, I am pleased you could join us; you may yet have Miller in the bag tonight. There have been no disturbances reported yet at McNulty's shop, I take it?"

"No, Mr. Holmes; but…"

"That is good. And you have done as I asked?"

"Yes; there are six men stationed within hailing distance of the place, in addition to the regular beat constable."

"Excellent!" Holmes glanced at the clock. "Then I suggest we delay no longer; there is a cab waiting outside."

We followed him to the waiting four-wheeler, Lestrade casting inquiring glances at me on the way. As I knew little more than he, I was unable to provide an answer; but Holmes called to the cab driver as we climbed aboard,

"Tarleton Street."

The question of our destination settled, he took the seat opposite me and glanced across at Lestrade, who was seated by the far window, wearing a rather sorry expression.

"I hope it was not too much of an inconvenience for you to come tonight, Lestrade, but I supposed you would rather be present at Miller's arrest yourself than give that satisfaction to one of your colleagues."

"Most definitely, Mr Holmes," agreed our companion fervently, before launching into another of his coughing fits as our cab lurched over a pot-hole.

Holmes winced. "There is no need for you to return the favour by sharing your unfortunate malady with us," he protested. "Watson, is there nothing you can do about it?"

"No, Holmes. Certainly not here."

"It is vital that there be no unnecessary sound to alert anyone to our presence during tonight's proceedings," he went on, looking pointedly at Lestrade.

"I'll try my best, Mr. Holmes," said the little detective, in a nettled tone. This answer did not appear to appease Holmes entirely, but he accepted it for the moment. We rode in silence the rest of the way to Tarleton Street, where the cab eventually pulled up in front of a small pawnbroker's establishment. The shutters were up for the night; but Holmes walked smartly up to the door and rapped upon it with his cane. We waited as the bolts were drawn back from inside, and the door opened a crack.

"Is this how you usually treat old friends, McNulty?" demanded Holmes. "I fail to see how we can have our rubber if you will not let us in."

The door opened fully, revealing a little, balding, middle-aged man. What remained of his hair stood up untidily around his crown, as if he had been running his fingers through it, and his eyes darted nervously behind a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles; but there was only the faintest tremor to his voice as he answered,

"You can never be too careful these days; don't you read your newspapers? But come in, come in, boys; the table's ready and waiting."

We stepped into the shop after the little pawnbroker, and waited as he shut and bolted the door once more.

"There has been no sign of anyone so far, I take it, Mr. McNulty?" queried Holmes, when this operation was done.

"No, Mr. Holmes, no one. I have done exactly as you told me. But are you sure it will be safe? I don't ask for myself, you understand, but my wife and the children are upstairs."

"I thought I recommended you to send them to a safe place for the night?" said Holmes sharply.

"My wife refuses to go, Mr. Holmes. She refuses to be frightened out of her home by a common criminal, she says." McNulty gave a nervous shrug. "She seems to be confident of your ability to catch the villain before he causes any danger." He looked doubtfully at us in the dim light of the shop.

"She must be a courageous woman," I said.

McNulty brightened. "I suppose that is so. And the children take after her, for it was all I could do to persuade them not to come down and join us."

Holmes gave a distant smile. "I think we will manage well enough without their help, although your eldest lad was certainly enthusiastic about his prospects as a detective when I met him earlier."

"If he would attend better to his work than to yellow-backed novels I would be better pleased," grumbled McNulty. "It was he who issued the pawn-ticket which started this business, half-wit that he is."

"Pawn-ticket?" queried Lestrade, who had followed this exchange in evident confusion. "What…"

"There is no time to explain now," interrupted Holmes. "Miller may arrive at any minute; he will be desperate enough to take the risk of coming earlier than we might otherwise expect. You will show us where we may remain concealed in the shop, Mr. McNulty."

The pawnbroker led us behind the shop counter, and gestured to a space cleared beneath it.

"It is the best I could do, gentlemen," he apologised.

"It will serve," answered Holmes. "Will you stay with us?"

"If you wish me to do so, Mr. Holmes; if you are sure my wife and the children will be safe upstairs." McNulty's answer spoke much for his own courage, for he was obviously half-terrified by the prospect of meeting our murderous quarry. He could not quite hide his relief when Holmes replied,

"On second thoughts, it would perhaps be better if you were there to restrain your boys from joining the fray. Will you turn down the gas on your way? Thank you."

"Of course, gentlemen. Good luck." McNulty hurried back to his family before we could change our minds, turning down the gas to such a level that we were left in almost complete blackness. We squeezed ourselves into the space he had left us, although it was scarce large enough for three grown men, and I feared the cramped conditions would begin to tell upon us before long.

"Is there really nowhere else for us to sit, Holmes?" I protested.

"It appears not," replied my friend with a mixture of resignation and suppressed amusement. "It is as well none of us are particularly large; although friend McNulty does seem to be under the impression that we are a pygmy tribe."

"Are we going to be here long, Mr. Holmes?" asked Lestrade, in a tone which could not quite disguise the fact that he was shivering violently beside me.

"You are cold," observed Holmes. "I trust we will not be here all night; however, the possibility is a very real one. Patience, Lestrade; I think you will find it is well rewarded. Until then, we can only wait."


	5. Chapter 5

It seemed that our fears were well justified, for it felt to me that we had been forced into our uncomfortable hiding place for days before a faint scrabbling at the window shutters reached our ears, warning us that we had a visitor. Instantly I felt Holmes stiffen beside me, alert for the next move. I nudged Lestrade, who appeared to have fallen into a feverish doze some time before; to his credit, he awoke without the faintest exclamation. The shutters rattled again, more loudly this time.

"Here he comes," breathed Holmes. We waited, holding our breath, as the rattling and scuffling continued; then came a sharp crack, followed by silence for a few moments, which I took to mean that Miller was waiting to see if the noise had alerted anyone to his efforts. He was obviously reassured by the lack of response, for when he deemed enough time to have elapsed, the scrabbling began again, this time followed by the shattering of glass.

We sat completely still, not daring to shift our cramped limbs even an inch for fear we should alert Miller to our presence. There was a muffled curse as he climbed in at the broken window; evidently he had cut himself on the shattered glass, although not badly enough to worry him unduly, for he carried on almost immediately, creeping almost silently across the room. He made so little noise that had we not been listening for his footsteps we would have undoubtedly missed them altogether. As it was, we were prepared for the sight of the shadowy figure which crept to the shelves in front of us, where the pawnbroker kept many of the smaller articles in his shop, and began to search them with the aid of a dark lantern.

Miller appeared to be by no means methodical in his search; but he was nonetheless just on the point of taking something, it seemed, when our position was inadvertently given away. After the warning Holmes had given us earlier, we had contrived to remain silent; but holding back the cough which currently plagued him must have taken some considerable effort for Lestrade, and now that it came to the last moment he proved unequal to the strain. He suddenly choked violently, causing Miller to jump visibly at the unexpected noise. Our intruder turned for immediate flight, although not before sweeping his chosen trophy from the shelf. If he had left it, he might still have escaped us; but the bare moment's hesitation was enough for Holmes to spring out from our hiding place and grasp our quarry firmly by the arm. Miller struggled, but I was barely an instant later than my friend, and between us it was a simple matter to subdue him for long enough to enable Lestrade to get the handcuffs on him once more. We did not loosen our grip, however, until a sharp blast of Lestrade's whistle brought the men he had posted earlier to our aid. Assured that Miller no longer had any chance of escape, Holmes crossed the room and turned up the gas, throwing the light on to our prisoner so that we saw him clearly for the first time.

Miller was a weak-looking young man, with a lank blond fringe falling across a face which might have been described as ordinary under normal circumstances, although it was currently disfigured by a petulant scowl.

"One might almost think you did not want to catch this gentleman after all, Lestrade," remarked Holmes, rubbing a bruised elbow. "Could you not have held your silence five minutes longer?"

"I don't see that it's made much difference, Mr. Holmes," returned Lestrade. "We have him all right now." He regarded Miller in a manner which earned him a vitriolic glare from the young man.

"Perhaps; but I think you have still failed to grasp the importance of finding him in this place," went on Holmes, coming back to join our little group. "I should ask him what he has now in his pocket, if I were you."

Lestrade merely gaped, although he was swaying on his feet in such an alarming manner that I suspected it was only with the greatest concentration that he remained standing, let alone alert enough to follow my friend's reasoning.

"Perhaps you had better make your explanation a simple one, Holmes," I suggested.

Holmes glanced at me, and sighed. "Very well, Watson. If you insist." Stepping forwards, he reached into the pocket of Miller's coat and withdrew the thing which the young man had taken from the shelf, holding it out in the palm of his hand for us all to see. It was an elaborate brooch, so heavily jewelled that it sparkled like a rainbow in the lamplight. Miller merely stared, with an expression which made his features an unpleasant thing to behold.

"Gentlemen, I present to you the brooch belonging to Lady Patricia St John, of Rosemore in Kent," said Holmes. " You will no doubt remember the Rosemore Castle jewel theft. I believe it caused Scotland Yard some little trouble at the time it was carried out."

"We never did get to the bottom of the matter," admitted Lestrade bitterly, "And it was over a year ago now. So that is the brooch? I was told it was Indian workmanship, and quite irreplaceable. We assumed it had been broken up and sold by now."

"But how has it come in to Miller's possession?" I asked. "I assume it is the thing attached to the pawn-ticket you found; but I fail to see how such a jewel could be pawned in the first place."

"That can be explained by sheer ignorance, my dear Watson. Mr. McNulty's eldest son may fancy himself as a detective, but his observational skills leave much to be desired. He serves as his father's apprentice, and on the day Miller brought this trinket in he was alone in the shop. Taking it for cheap costume jewellery, he issued a loan of eight shillings and sixpence. I take it you had made the same mistake yourself, Miller, or you would never have dared to bring the brooch here in the first place."

For answer, Miller spat upon the floor.

"And now we come to the matter of how it came into your possession in the first place. I take it you would not care to tell us yourself?" inquired Holmes, addressing our prisoner inquiringly.

"Isn't it enough that I shall hang?" snarled Miller, speaking for the first time since his capture.

"I should have thought that you would owe no loyalty to the man who allowed you to get into such a position in the first place," Holmes remarked. "However, I daresay I can fill in the gaps if you will not." Miller held a sullen silence. "No? Very well, then. I took the liberty of speaking to your landlady earlier today; she tells me that lately you have been in the habit of receiving visits from your cousin, who has recently returned from abroad. Further inquiry led me to the fact that this cousin was until last month employed as valet to Sir Humphrey Carter; one of the guests at Rosemore Castle at the time of the robbery. He was questioned at the time, but no suspicion was aroused and when Sir Humphrey left on a tour of Europe your cousin was allowed to go with him. He must be a cleverer man than you, Miller, although not clever enough. I suppose you do not know how he managed to carry out the robbery?"

Miller shook his head in reluctant admiration as Holmes gave his casual rendition of the facts.

"Ah, well; never mind. We know, at least, that he did it. No doubt you can pick up the man in question from his lodgings in the morning, Lestrade. But to go on. Your cousin could hardly go about with the brooch in his possession for any length of time, in case his luck should run out; so he sent it to you for safekeeping. Am I right so far?"

"I wish I had never seen the thing!" burst out Miller bitterly. "I did not know what it was until a week ago, and I curse the day I ever found out."

"Your cousin did not tell you what you had in your keeping, then?" demanded Holmes.

"How could he? He could hardly set it down in a letter for all to see, and I never saw him until he came to see me last week, and told me what he had done. I thought it was nothing more than a trinket for his sweetheart."

"A somewhat expensive one," Holmes remarked. "It would perhaps have been as well for you if you had been able to tell the difference between diamonds and paste. Still, you are not alone in making that mistake. You must have pawned the brooch almost immediately you received it?"

"I needed the money," moaned Miller, all his resistance gone now he realised that Holmes had all the facts without his assistance. "There was a horse- a certain winner…"

"Which no doubt did not win," said Holmes.

"It came sixth. The money was just to tide me over, you understand, but then I received word that Harry was going abroad, and I thought there was no harm in waiting a little longer to pay off the debt, for I was going through a bad patch at the time. Somehow I never got round to paying it, although I always meant to."

"Then your cousin returned from his travels and discovered that you had pawned the brooch."

"Yes, and there but a few days left to redeem it. I panicked, for Harry was so wild when I told him what I had done that I dared not admit I couldn't afford to get it back. I determined to get the money somehow, but it came to the last minute and still I had failed, until in desperation I went to take the money from my employer. It was such a small amount I thought he would not miss it, and I meant to repay it, anyhow; but then he came in and caught me, and threatened me with the police. I could not let it happen, I could not! But I never meant to kill him, I swear it. It was an accident, a moment's madness!" Miller's voice rose to a desperate whine. "I ran, but I had been seen, and the police were on me before I could get away with the ticket as well as the money; and then I managed to escape, by the barest chance. I went to find Harry."

"I presume it was he who worked the trick with the bicycle?" asked Holmes.

"Yes. He had heard what I had done to old Evans, and was on his way to my lodgings; we met in the street, and he bade me hide while he laid a false trail for the police."

"In which he was reasonably successful, but he failed to appreciate that while it is easy enough to ride a cycle with one's hands behind one's back, it is another matter entirely to lift it up and set it going in such a condition. That alone told me that you could not have been the cyclist."

"It bought me time. But when we got the cuffs off I found I had dropped the pawn-ticket in my flight; I tried to go back to my lodgings again to find it, but the place was crawling with police. I was afraid I might be caught at any second; so I came here tonight, for one last attempt to get back the brooch. But you were here before me. How did you know?"

"We found the pawn-ticket ourselves," said Holmes. "It was obvious enough that there was something in your rooms which you were desperate to obtain, however big the risk. That was the only thing which it could have been."

Miller hung his head mutely, as if unable to quite take in the fact that he no longer had any chance of escape; then he began to weep noisily, as if the full import of his situation had finally hit him. Holmes looked at him in disgust.

"That's enough of that," said Lestrade sharply. "Come along, now. Mr. Holmes, I'm much obliged to you; but now we've caught this villain the sooner we have him under lock and key the happier I shall be."

"I do not think he will give you any trouble now," answered Holmes, as the weeping Miller was hauled from the room by six burly constables. "Not now he knows there is no chance of his retrieving the brooch. I warrant you were not expecting to solve two crimes in one night, Lestrade."

"I would have been happy just to lay my hands on Miller," admitted Lestrade. "I don't know how you manage these things, Mr. Holmes, but…"

"It was remarkably simple once I had the facts at my disposal. You need not mention my name in conjunction with the affair; I have no wish to be publicly associated with a case so entirely lacking in complexity. You will no doubt be able to give a passable rendition of the facts without mentioning my presence here tonight in your report; although I would suggest it may be as well for you to mention that Lady Patricia's brooch was only found as a result of your unfortunate lack of grip at Miller's first arrest. If you are lucky the one may cancel out the other. But now I think we should wish you good night; it is late, and no doubt we could all use some sleep. Come along, Watson; it is high time we were back at Baker Street."

* * *

_Thanks to all who've read and/or reviewed- it's nice to know it's not just myself I'm amusing!_


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